Blaze: The Firefighters of Darling Bay, #1

By Rachael Herron

Her smoke detector won't warn her about this explosion...

From international bestseller Rachael Herron, comes a book too delightful to put down:

Grace is doing just fine--she doesn't need help, especially from a man whose very nickname is unhealthy. Tox Ellis is the hazmat expert at the Darling Bay Fire Department, and he knows what compounds to keep apart to prevent explosions. Why, then, can't he seem to stay away from Grace, the woman who seems to think he needs fixing? Is Darling Bay ready for the chemical reaction Grace and Tox generate whenever they're in the same place at the same time? And who will be standing by to put out the flames?

This heartwarming, hilarious, and red-hot contemporary romance will leave you wishing for a marina view — and a hot fireman — of your very own. 

"Relationships are at the heart of women's fiction, and Herron could teach a master class on creating them." Chicklit Central

• Language: English
• Publisher: HGA Publishing
• Release date: Feb 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781940785035

Rachael Herron

Rachael Herron received her MFA in writing from Mills College, and has been knitting since she was five years old. It's more than a hobby; it's a way of life. Rachael lives with her better half in Oakland, California, where they have four cats, three dogs, three spinning wheels, and more musical instruments than they can count. She is a proud member of the San Francisco Area Romance Writers of America and she is struggling to learn the ukulele and accordion.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Everything was fine until the air conditioner caught on fire.

It’s not a big deal, said Grace, blowing at the tendril of smoke that rose from the plastic cover. Don’t get up.

Steve Swanson, who had been reclining with his needles in, popped his chair forward. His eyes bulged behind his thick glasses. Kind of looks like a big deal to me.

Mrs. Little—who was anything but—also sat forward, adjusting her bosom as she went. It smells like my toaster when the bread gets stuck. You sure it’s not on fire in there?

Eliza Cross, ninety years old if a day, didn’t even open her eyes. Just let me know if we need to evacuate. Till then, I’m napping. The hush was implied in the retired librarian’s tone.

Grace waved her hands at the smoke. I think it’s dissipating, she said hopefully. No, this wouldn’t do, not at all. A fire in her group acupuncture treatment room wouldn’t be the best thing for business. Darling Bay was as progressive as small towns got, but residents were still figuring out what community acupuncture was. Word of patients being treated for smoke inhalation would be downright embarrassing.

The innards of the air-conditioner gave a startling crack followed by pops, as if something were being cooked inside. A larger cloud of noxious-smelling black smoke curled into the room.

Oh, dear, said Mrs. Little. Should I take my needles out?

No, no, let me … said Grace. Just one sec. I think I can … She tugged on the front of the unit, pulling hard until the cover came off in her hands. When she peered into it, she saw a bright red flame leap. Oh, crap. What were you supposed to do for an electrical fire? Baking soda? This was an office, not a kitchen.

Get a jug of water! said Steve.

Not water. Grace remembered that, at least. I’ve changed my mind, she went on briskly, clapping her hands. I think the three of you should wait on the lawn. Eliza, let me help you. You can leave your points in—it won’t hurt them to move around a bit. She kept her voice as even as she could, but inside, she was terrified. What if her whole office burned down because she waited too long to call the fire department? Her fingers shook as she dialed 911. Fire insurance was good from the day she purchased it, right?

Lexie answered.

It’s me, Grace.

You usually text me. Why are you calling me at work?

Um, I might have a fire.

Grace heard Lexie sigh, and the clicking of a keyboard on the other side of the phone. What’s on fire? She gave Lexie the information as fast as she could. The fire was getting bigger, flames licking out the top of the unit now. The metal Venetian blinds were charring, and the cord started smoking.

We’re on the way, said Lexie. Can you get everyone out?

I’m trying. Grace ushered her three patients out, shooing them like chickens. Their acupuncture points bobbed, swaying lightly in their arms, legs and ears.

Steve, on his way out the front door with his pants still rolled up to the knee, said, Aren’t you supposed to have a fire extinguisher?

Of course she did! How could she have forgotten? Demonstrating she knew how to use it was one of the check-offs she’d done for the city before getting her business license.

Grace made sure Eliza was comfortable on the lawn (the old woman was remarkably unperturbed and appeared as if she might go back to sleep) and then rushed back inside. The air was acrid, smelling of melted plastic and something harsher, more chemical. Grace felt dizzy and wondered if it was possible to pass out from smoke inhalation when it wasn’t a real fire. It wasn’t, after all, like a wall was on fire. Yet. She was pretty sure it was still contained to the unit. Mostly. Hopefully.

She got the fire extinguisher off the wall, finding it heavier than she remembered. Would she have to read the instructions? The list of words on the fire extinguisher was discouragingly long. In the distance, she could hear a fire engine’s siren. Although now that she had the extinguisher, she bet she could have it out by the time they got there. Grace knew one thing about herself—she was good at handling a crisis.

Well then, crap, why hadn’t she thought to unplug the danged air conditioner? Reaching forward, she yanked out the plug and threw open the window next to it. Fresh air, at least.

Or would that make the fire happier? Fire wanted oxygen, right? What if the fire sped up the wall into the attic? The cottage her office was housed in was more than a hundred years old. She’d barely glanced at the attic when she bought it, just noting it was dusty and had housed mice at some point over the years.

Speed. Hurry. Grace stood straight, willing herself to breathe slowly. She pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher and pressed the handle, directing the nozzle at the air conditioner. The fire inspector, when testing her business, had instructed, Sweep the spray side to side, hitting the base of the fire.

The difference was instant. The fire that had been creeping up the wall disappeared in a blanket of white spray. Grace took a deep breath of relief and immediately convulsed in a fit of choking.

From behind her, she heard a man yell, Got a victim here, roll medics code three! She turned to see a huge man in some kind of a yellow jumpsuit coming at her. He had shaggy blond hair and a jaw like a cliff. His eyes snapped green fire at her. Or that’s what it felt like.

She tried to tell him she wasn’t hurt, that she had it all under control, but she just said, Thhbt.

Then everything went dark.

CHAPTER 2

The woman was coming to, and that was a good thing, because Tox needed to make it clear to her how stupid she’d been.

What he wasn’t ready for, though, was the moment she opened her eyes. Eyes the color of coffee with a splash of cream, lids heavy, as if she’d just woken up in her own bed after a restful night. She gave the impression she woke up happy, half a smile on her face. What must that be like?

Glad you’re awake, Princess.

Behind him, Tox’s engineer Coin laughed. Or what? You were going to kiss her awake?

Sudden color flooded the woman’s cheeks, and Tox could almost see her remember what had happened.

Is the fire out? Is everyone okay? She looked around, and relief lit her face as she saw her three patients studying her with interest. Is the building okay?

You’re gonna need a new air conditioner, said Coin. And part of a wall where we pulled it out.

Tox interrupted him. That’s really not what you need.

What? she asked. More? Did it get into the roof? The attic?

Tox shook his head. "There was no extension. You were lucky. But you will need to get a clue the next time something like that happens. You should never have gone back in there, not after you got everyone out."

She frowned. But I put out the fire, right?

Well, he had to give her that. "You didn’t know how it would go. Fires double in size every thirty seconds, and if it had caught inside the wall, in the time it took us to drive from the station, it wouldn’t have been safe for you to use the extinguisher. That’s our job."

Oh, it’s your job, huh? She blinked sleepily, looking up at him. Summer sunlight lit her long maple-colored hair and for a moment he was tempted to lean down and pick her up, moving her into the shade. Skin as porcelain as hers would burn in a second.

Darn shootin’, it is.

She coughed again. So I did it wrong? The fire’s still raging inside?

He heard Coin snort behind him. But Tox was right about this. Next time you have a fire—

There won’t be a next time.

He ignored her. Next time you have a fire, you let us handle it. You seriously could have killed yourself. We see it all the time.

She looked concerned. Really?

Not for years, actually. They had a good track record in Darling Bay. Yep. How’s your breathing?

The woman waved her hand at him and pushed herself up to sitting. "Pfft. I’m fine. We Rowes don’t break that easily."

Tox frowned. Rowe. Related to Samantha?

She nodded. She’s my younger sister. I’m Grace. You know her?

Grace looked suspicious, and Tox could understand why. Back in the day, Samantha had been a wild one. Hank, my firefighter in there, I think he used to date her.

She groaned. In advance, I’m sorry for whatever he’s about to say. She had a rough few years.

Whoa, slow it down. I remember her. She was cool.

For the record, she still is.

Tox nodded and checked the pulse-ox. Your O2 sat’s good. Just got to get a couple questions answered from you, then the medics will take you to the hospital to make sure you’re all right.

After coughing again, Grace pushed herself to her feet. No hospital.

Coin gave him the high sign and went back into the business. Tox sighed. He was a sucker. He always fell for it, and winded up being the one to argue with the patients who wanted to AMA out of the transport.

Ma’am, we always recommend—

Ma’am? Really? I’m thirty-three.

Tox ground the pen he held against his palm. Ms. Rowe, we always recommend that our patients see a doctor. They can give you the medical advice that out here in the field, we’re not equipped to give.

She was a ball of energy, practically bouncing on her toes. What do you think is wrong with me?

You inhaled superheated gas. Your lungs should be checked.

My lungs are fine.

He tilted his head. If he had to argue with someone today, at least she was prettier than the normal octogenarians who called them. You’re probably dying.

Her mouth dropped open. I bet you’re not supposed to say that to your patients.

Normally they’re too deaf to hear me say it.

Now you’re being mean just for fun.

Tox felt his mouth twitch but he wouldn’t allow the smile. We should just take you to the hospital.

No, thank you.

You’ll need to sign that you’re not going, against our medical advice.

Gimme a pen, she stated, reaching out her hand as if she were going to take the one he was writing with right out of his hand.

He closed his fingers tighter around it. "Look, I’m all for not transporting you. I’d like nothing more than to get back to the firehouse where Coin just finished burning the popcorn. We have the Maple-Bruns fight ready to go on the DVR. But I’m not kidding. You’re lungs aren’t something you want to mess around with."

How much does the ride in your little lights-and-siren box cost?

Tox raised a shoulder. I don’t send the bills, but your insurance should cover it.

What if I didn’t have insurance?

Tox couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. Huh. You seem like someone who’d be covered.

What does that mean?

I mean you have all your teeth, and you’re not obviously on meth. You appear to have good hygiene. She had very good hygiene, in fact. She smelled annoyingly sweet under the smoke, like flowers and soap and something he wanted to move toward. He didn’t like the feeling.

The small smile that had almost started on her face disappeared. So you’re profiling your patients now?

Hard not to sometimes.

Really. In Darling Bay? Huge crackhead problem here?

You should see the guys in the inland flats. Those guys have pit bulls for a reason.

"Seriously?"

She looked angry enough to spit hypodermic needles. He leaned against the light post. Peering over her head into her practice, he could see Coin and Hank were just about finished up inside. You probably have a pit bull, too.

"No, but I have a sister who’s had a problem with drugs, as well as a mother who lived in those inland flats. And I like pit bulls. You’re kind of pushing all my buttons right now."

Your mother’s a crackhead? He couldn’t help it. It was too fun. Something about this girl was getting under his skin and he didn’t know if he wanted to make her laugh or make her slap him.

She’s dead.

Oh. Tox looked at his worn boots. I’m sorry about that.

She didn’t have insurance. Pretty hard, taking care of a person dying of cancer when no doctor will return your calls. Some people have to prioritize eating, she said. There was a glossy sheen to those big brown eyes, but it didn’t look like sadness to Tox. It looked more like fighting-mad. Some people don’t have the luxury of working a job where they get to sit around in recliners and watch TV all night, every night.

Hey, now. The woman didn’t need to start pushing his buttons.

I’ve driven past the station. I can see that blue glow. Must be nice to have a job where the taxpayers pay for your insurance. We little people have to buy our own.

Oh, now she’d done it. One of his least favorite topics. I’m a taxpayer, too, you know. Everyone always forgets that. I’m paying my own wages—my own insurance—out of my own pocket.

"That’s a ridiculous argument. And by the way, I asked you what would happen if I didn’t have insurance. I do have it, in fact. I just choose to trust Eastern medicine more than the hospital you want to take me to."

Tox got out the paperwork. Here. Fill in this top part, if you really don’t want to get checked out. I still think you should. Sign here. He yelled at Bonnie Maddern on the ambulance, just pulling up, that they could cancel. Bonnie thumped the outside of her door in understanding.

Grace scribbled on the page, her handwriting furious and choppy. She looked up at him with those huge eyes. Her lashes curled and were so long they looked fake, though she didn’t look as if she were wearing any other makeup.

You know, she said, clicking the pen closed with a flourish, I don’t think you’re representing your company very well, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is.

Department. Specificity mattered. I’m not representing the Darling Bay Fire Department very well. And I’m Tox.

I thought it was protect and serve.

Oh, he’d protect and serve her, all right. This time he felt his mouth quirk into the smile he was trying to prevent, and he couldn’t—seriously, he couldn’t—prevent his gaze from dropping to the top of her flower-printed blouse. "You know, it’s not the first time I’ve

Reviews for Blaze

[becky_mckenna-1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Can't say I liked this one at all. The story was disjointed, jumping from issue to issue with no clear direction, and the characters were shallow to me. I almost gave up on it after the cheezy and crude attempts at humor in the early chapters. I didn't like Grace and her controlling ways were flat out annoying. We know next to nothing about Tox's past, except that he slept with a few girls.

I didn't even get a genuine feel for his life as a firefighter. I thought the bond within a company was tight, but we don't see much more than casual co-workers here. I thought perhaps the research was bad, then I read the author was a firefighter. Something was lost in translation, because I REALLY didn't get it. With Tox being a "specialist" I expected more detail. He could've been a rookie or on the volunteer civilian force and the story still would've been the same.

Overall, this was typical "fluffy insta-love" with conflicts that were resolved in a snap. The dog was cute, but that's about it.